


Good Morning

by bloodandcream



Series: Aesthetics [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Aromantic Dean, Asexual Castiel, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 07:03:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4737161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reaching down, Castiel finds his hand. Broad and strong. These are capable hands that can craft many things just as well as they can cradle a heart. Still drowsy and sated from a good night sleep, Castiel enjoys lazy mornings. Clasping Dean’s hand, he squeezes gently and pulls it up to his chest, holding there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Morning

-

**2021**

-

It is warm and soft in the cocoon of sheets as Castiel wakes. Though they flip the mattress every year, there are dented impressions of the two men who sleep there. His weight presses back against the curve of a solid body wrapped around him. The spot where their hips are aligned sinks deep into the memory foam top. It can be hard to crawl out of a crater like that. But he doesn’t really want to.

One of Dean’s arms is draped over his waist, hand hanging loosely in his sleep. Castiel is curled on his side facing towards the window. The buttercup yellow curtains are limned in early morning light, pre-dawn. Maybe the sun is just about to rise, it feels like it. There’s a certain energy to the waking of day.

Dean is not a morning person.

There’s a hardness pressed against the small of his back, skin to skin is warm and soft. Some mornings Castiel turns over, some mornings, he scoots as unobtrusively out of bed as he can to enjoy a cup of tea and a book in the quietude before Dean wakes. Some mornings, he revels in the curve of their bodies together and the steady rise and fall of Dean’s chest against his back. He can feel breath across the nape of his neck. A small twitch of hips, unconscious, Dean grumbles still asleep and gives a soft snore as he rubs against Castiel.

Reaching down, Castiel finds his hand. Broad and strong. These are capable hands that can craft many things just as well as they can cradle a heart. Still drowsy and sated from a good night sleep, Castiel enjoys lazy mornings. Clasping Dean’s hand, he squeezes gently and pulls it up to his chest, holding there.

With a little shifting, Dean wakes up and rolls on to his back.

Although Castiel misses the heat and the press of his skin, he is more comfortable to turn and curl on his side facing Dean. A very eager erection stands proudly underneath the sheets and he can’t help but smile as Dean rubs an eye blearily and groans at the loss of whatever good dream has flitted away.

There is no point of contact between them now as Castiel smiles at a yawn so wide it should crack Dean’s jaw.

“Good morning.”

Dean’s reply is an unintelligible mumble.

He might roll away to leave Dean to his privacy. Dean turns to him, still flat on his back and folding an arm up under his head as his other hands sneaks down beneath the sheets. Castiel lets him know it’s all right when he decides that he would very much like kisses on that sleep soft mouth this morning.

Scooting forward, he reaches a hand out to rest lightly on Dean’s chest as he kisses the mouth that turns toward him expectant. Dean unfolds his arm to reach for Castiel, fingers brushing his hair aside, lips lax and pliant.

Dean curls on his side to mirror Castiel. Their hips bow out, parenthesis, knees bent in and bumping, faces pressed to the same pillow. Castiel kisses gently with the lingering pliancy of rest, one hand sliding up Dean’s chest to curl over a shoulder and brush down his arm. His body though growing older does not retain the slenderness of youth has more muscle and sturdiness, roots which him hold him solid.

The bed shifts and the sheets slip down tangling as his motions become more frenetic, his hips twitch and every few strokes Castiel can feel Dean’s hand, feel his cock, bump against his hip. He curls a hand tighter against the back of Dean’s neck to draw him in. Breathless, Dean stares wide eyed with arousal flushed pink on freckled cheeks, jaw stubbled with a night’s growth. Breath panting hot across Castiel’s wet lips, he takes as he wants, licking against the plush of Dean’s mouth and keen to swallow his breath.

There is a soft whimper, an exhalation, quiet noises of content in these petal pink mornings they share alone so different from the sounds Dean makes when he is with others. There is something here that is Castiel’s alone. A depth of awe and breadth of want, vast beyond comprehension. But so other people are, essentially unknowable in the privacy of their own mind though we may fashion means of communication, the immediacy of raw knowing in an emotion is something that cannot be shared directly, only via medium.

Dean gasps and his body tenses, his eyes still stubbornly held wide shining as Castiel slides the tips of his fingers down the curve of Dean’s spine. Muscles ripple and stretch, his body losing the fluid glide to the sudden final crescendo. Fumbling underneath the fluttering sheets, Castiel finds the hand of Dean’s arm pressed to the mattress, bent out into the space between their stomachs. Again, he slots their fingers together and presses his palm against Dean, who eagerly grasps for his hold and squeezes. Tilting his head to angle closer, Dean pushes his mouth against Castiel’s and shudders.

There is a low drawn out groan as Dean kisses again, more than open mouthed breathing together, tongue entreating and smile curving against Castiel’s mouth.

He is more coherent now. “Mornin’ Cas.”

“Good morning. Again.”

The room is lighter now, suffused in a pleasant yellow glow. The sun must be up, but Castiel’s back is turned to the window. This is their world. Here in the bed they’ve made together and the life they’ve carved to fit all the places where they align and where they don’t, in the warmth of living breathing bodies and hungry hearts, they’ve made this theirs.

Dean’s smile is a brilliant thing. He kisses Castiel one more time on the lips, and draws their clasped hands up to kiss his knuckles before letting go and rolling once more on to his back.

With a groan, Dean bunches the sheets and frowns, wiping his hand off on what’s already been soiled anyway.

“We got any plans today? Man what time is it?”

Glancing over his shoulder, Castiel confirms, “It’s just past six. We’re picking up the kids at ten.”

“Oh yeah, Jess and Sam are going to that, what, winery slash B&B thing or whatever?”

“Yes, we’ve got babysitting duty tonight and tomorrow.”

“Dude, can we go to the zoo, they’ve got a new exhibit on bats.”

“The kids always love the zoo.”

Dean is, surprisingly, the first to roll out of bed this morning.

“Awesome, I’ll get the sheets changed.”

“I’ll start breakfast.”

“Fuck yeah, babe we got any bacon?”

“I’m not sure, there has to be some sort of meat product I can make though.”

Castiel, standing to stretch and pop his shoulders as he reaches his above his head, feels a strong arm snake around his bare waist. Dean presses a kiss to his jaw before turning back to the bed to pull away the fitted sheet as he exclaims, “Perfect.”

And yes, Castiel thinks as well, that it is.


End file.
